Have you ever had your heart feel like it's beating out of your chest?

I did last night. There was a memorial service for my friend D.'s Mom last night. One of those memorial services where they want family and friends to get up and talk about the deceased.

I haven't been to one of those in a long time. LONG time.

Even though I've been to so many funerals. I never cease to be weirded out by death. For those of us (outsiders) the process of mourning/grieving is relatively short (a week or two), while the process for the family is much longer, and involves taking care of details that the uninvolved never had to sort through.

Not to mention I have what some might consider bizarre views about death. Here are a few for your reading pleasure:

1. Death is not the end. It is a culmination of life on earth, but the beginning of life (in the loosest possible term) in eternity.
2. I am a concrete believer that God heals. He made a covenant with believers, and He cannot break that covenant. He is our healer. Period. Location, however, is totally in his hands. So -- if God doesn't heal people on earth, then it's merely a circumstance of location, because you can bet the walk/dance/skip into Glory with a glorified, whole, healed body (again a loose term because I can't imagine my soul having the same skin confines in eternity as it does on earth).
3. Funerals should also include humor. I, being a ridiculously serious person, think this is imperative. Funerals that only shoot for massive waterworks are just wrong.
4. Please remember that these are MY thoughts, but I think of death as necessary. I believe that God will get the glory no matter what, and when He (Yes, I think of God in male terms (Father, etc)) chooses for one to die and another to live, then I Have to Believe that there is purpose in that. The pastor who spoke (after the rest of us spoke) reiterated that point based on perspective. We can't see the big picture, ergo, we can't see the big purpose. There have been people that I've known to die, that their ENTIRE FAMILY gets saved as a result of their death. In other cases, it's forced the family to mature and not hang on to a parent/loved one. I can't expound on that point very well; I only pray you understand what I mean. We can't live off of our parents coattails and prayers forever. We are admonished to mature spiritually, and in some cases, the death of a parent is followed by a desperation and seeking for God to be real and present in the live of a survivor. And it's truly a beautiful thing. God so longs for our dependence on ONLY Him.

But, alas my point for blogging. Wouldn't you know that in the midst of that service, early on as well, that God would start dealing with me about saying something? Me? Seriously? I was praying hardcore for alot of people to get up, because I didn't want to. I mean, my crush was there. (I know,... feel the liberty to take a shot the next time you see me.) Seriously, a LOT of people I know where there. And then came the violent beating of my heart. I could hear it pounding in my ears. And then one of the kids got up, and reiterated that they really wanted people to share. And the beating got faster, and harder, and louder, and I knew I was going to have to get up or pass out in the pew to avoid this.

So, I did.

I was trying to put together words as my heart was going nuts, and although I didn't get to see even 2/3rds of what I wanted, I wanted that whole family to know how much I loved them and their Mom. I can only pray that they received it like that as well.

But I have a feeling that this won't be the last time.